


Down in the North

by Marie_L



Category: Almost Human, due South
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Canadian Shack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 15:35:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12345558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marie_L/pseuds/Marie_L





	Down in the North

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NaughtyAnne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaughtyAnne/gifts).



The sun dipped below the horizon, and the frigid air was beginning to affect Dorian's neural net, he realized. Some previously unnoticed human-mimicking subroutine made him shiver. It was an energy vampire under circumstances like these, so he overrode it manually. At the same time Dorian took the hint, and sank to his knees in the corner and curled up with the thermo blanket around him in a futile attempt at insulation. He could warm himself in key areas, of course, but it was a drain. Simple physics electricity hemorrhaging into BTUs.

Maybe John would find him. After all, it was limited search area within which they had split up, and Dorian's alert system had been activated. But in this rolling windstorm there was no online to connect to without proximity to a booster tower, no infrastructure broadband, no cell reception, no satellite. Not even the constant background ocean of interconnected devices that would be present in any sized human habitation, all pinging each other and flinging data packets back and forth as God and tech support intended.

Out in nature, he was truly alone. It wasn't the natural habitat of the android.

His circulation fluid was sludging up, accounting for the correspondingly sluggish thought processes. Emotions were flat too, despite the weird power feed, so his semantic processor might also be malfunctioning. DRNs weren't built for the cold. Not many were, given that there weren't many places left on Earth where subzero temperatures occurred anymore. But despite the blue-water summers of the pole, it still got cold up there in the black winter arctic. Ellesmere, Siberia, Greenland – the world's new Midwest(ish) breadbaskets, complete with intensified seasons.

He caught the first whiff of a device – barely a ping – from quite a distance away. It was not in Autonomous Basic, so likely not a vehicle, nor was it in AI Universal Code, so he concluded wolf instead of Mountie. It was bizarre and inexplicable to Dorian that the Canadians had permitted demi-AI to be cut loose across the wilds with only proprietary languages installed, even though the RCMP could control them well enough. Maybe the point was to make them ferocious aliens to the robots as well as humans. It worked. He sent the distress signal anyway, hoping the wolf would comprehend, or at least have the capacity to send the message along.

It scratched at the door, and Dorian forced himself to move to open it a crack, even though his alert systems were screaming at him to conserve fluid and heat. The robocreature padded in, tail actually wagging in apparent happiness that it'd found him. Not that Dorian should be one to judge a well-designed mimicking gesture.

“You understand?” Dorian said out loud, for no reason. “You can send the message? John Kennex, visiting liaison from Seattle PD, Invasive Tech Division. Case number 6237-64A on our end, FG3418991 on the RCMP's. Okay? Get it? Got it? Can you even parse a ping? Stick your tail in a cell tower and send up a smoke signal?”

“Technically, he's deaf,” someone said from the door, and Dorian jumped back into a defensive posture. “Really I should get that auditory analyzer repaired, but he does so well without it, it would be a shame to have to reboot.”

Dorian's processing was so slow that for a full hundred milliseconds he couldn't tell whether the Mountie was human or android, let alone run him through facial recognition. The majority were biological, but there was a humanpower shortage of folks interested in working in the vast empty newly bioseeded lands, so they supplemented with specially designed synthetics. But then the bot sent him an overly formal and polite greeting ping, and finally Dorian's lethargic artificial brain was able to identify him. The BTN model they had met back in Whitehorse. Benton. Of course.

“Hello, Dorian,” Benton said, and the simply words were so reassuring that Dorian couldn't help busting out a huge smile. Maybe the emotion chip wasn't so broken after all.

“Man, I am _so_ glad to see you,” Dorian replied, while simultaneously dumping his decrepit body and cognitive stats on their newly formed network. An embarrassing gush of information poured out, but at that moment Dorian didn't care, so long as actual friggin' help was on the way.

Benton tipped his head. “You were not designed or enhanced for temperatures below negative thirty centigrade,” he said. “Unexpected temperature inversions are unfortunately still common up here at this time of year, so its best to be prepared.”

With many other cops – okay, mostly John – Dorian would have shot back _N_ _o shit Sherlock,_ but he could tell Benton wasn't being sarcastic or snippy, merely stating the obvious in a kindly concerned tone. So he rustled up some pleasantries of his own. “Thanks. I was chasing an automated wing of dealers to its den, while John was monitoring the buyers. Thought I would lose it, so I followed it despite the weather warnings. But ... plane ...” He trailed off, motor verbal ability shutting down. The sludge had spread to his exposed face.

“That's a common trap for southern bots. Likely they baited you to fly through a nano cloud, to infect the plane,” Benton said, nodding. Based on the calm pleasant tone, Dorian wasn't sure the other android had quite absorbed of the dire straits he was in, despite the data dump. “Next time you should request RCMP backup; I could have met you in a properly secured vehicle. But here, you need to get warm before we discuss protocol. Dief?”

The wolf who supposedly couldn't hear nevertheless galloped two strides over to them, its tail still swinging. Benton snapped a hidden release button underneath the animal robot's belly, and the whole side of it popped open to reveal a storage compartment stuffed full of emergency supplies.

“For future reference, all the hybrid wolf models are also equipped as relief support,” Benton told him, while digging out some chemical warmers. He wrapped a large towel-sized one around Dorian's chest, and then slipped a smaller bag type over his head, completely encompassing it. This muffled Dorian's visual and auditory sensors, but hey, at least he didn't need to breathe. The blessed warmth immediately began to liquify the hydraulic fluid in his face. He was vaguely aware Benton had also sealed him inside what amounted to a reflective insulated sleeping bag, capturing the heat in a bubble. He probably looked like a lump of shiny space metal from the outside.

“Gooo...” mumbled Dorian from inside the bag, and recently loosened purple fluid drooled from his mouth via some burst capillaries. Okay, not the time for mechanical talking. He switched back to AIUC. _Good to know,_ he sent. _Are you two going to be okay out there?_

 _Certainly,_ Benton sent back. _Our systems are equipped with antifreeze hydraulics down to -85C._

_Oh. Well it's a good thing you came along. I was about to shut down into storage mode, and just was going to hope someone found my almost lifeless corpse._

Benton signaled back amusement, more than he would have guessed based on their previous interactions. Even at a casual meet and greet, the BTN was so _reserved._ Dorian figured he'd been programmed without emotions, rather like a less rude MX. Most AI only gave the external appearance of affect, when convenient to their human masters. The DRNs had been made to really feel it all, and that more than anything led to their collective downfall.

As if reading his neural net, Benton spontaneously sent, _You are a DRN, correct? Your colloquial subroutines are quite advanced._

_Thanks, man. Sometimes Lumocorp did get a few things right. They wanted a more human bot, and got one, for better or worse._

_I know. They used Lumocorp's emotional processors in us as well. To increase intrinsic empathy._

_Oh crap really?_ Dorian transmitted, before he could rein himself back. _How's that working out for you?_

The other android waited a full 450 milliseconds before responding: _Lonely._

 _Yeah. I get it,_ Dorian told him. _I'm the only DRN left in police service in Seattle. Maybe they thought there'd be less android PTSD if they send you out alone in the wild. Ironically, where there's fewer humans, the connections become stronger._

_Perhaps._

They waited in silence for a few seconds, but it wasn't awkward. More like sitting comfortably with an old friend.

 _There's a projected storm activity decrease in 2.1 hours,_ Benton finally sent. _They will send a reinforced ground vehicle for you. Your partner is apparently rather anxious to locate you. He says, and I quote, 'if Dorian's mush, I'm kicking someone's, uh, ...ass.'_

Even in AIUC the bot sounded positively squeamish. Inwardly Dorian chortled, but only transmitted a sense of joy and relief.

 _Tell him thanks for the psychotic concern,_ Dorian sent, after the emotions. _Only say it your way._

“Thank you kindly?” Benton replied out loud.

 _Exactly._ And this time, the laugh dribbled forth from his frozen lips.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  



End file.
